


Dream-Job

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Criminal Dean, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Lawyer Sam, Sam Leaves for Stanford, nothing new there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 15:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12729303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He never actually thought he’d make it this far, to be honest. Sam didn’t do particularly well in his first year of college, having only attended High School in bits and pieces over various states if John decided that they’d be staying longer than only two days in the same place.But he did, even if it cost him his father and his brother. He did it. And that’s all that mattered.





	Dream-Job

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had this thought in class today and I just _couldn't_ leave it unwritten.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sam Winchester hasn’t been a Lawyer for a long time, but still, having graduated from Stanford Law School top of his class made his reputation shoot up a whole lot.  


So, yeah, Sam’s been pretty busy in the past five years he’s been employed as a Lawyer, not that he didn’t absolutely love every second of the job. It was his life-long dream, after all.

He never actually thought he’d make it this far, to be honest. Sam didn’t do particularly well in his first year of college, having only attended High School in bits and pieces over various states if John decided that they’d be staying longer than only two days in the same place. 

But he did, even if it cost him his father _and_ his brother. He did it. And that’s all that mattered. 

If John and Dean didn’t want to approve of _his_ dream to not end up fighting for his life against fathomless creatures of the night on a daily basis, but rather save people in the form of actual _justice_ , then that was their problem. And Sam came to understand that.

He did.

He rarely thought about his father, John. Didn’t deem him worth worrying about, not after what he’d said to him.

_“If you go through that door, don’t even bother coming back.”_

And Sam didn’t. 

Sam was currently preparing some files for a new case; a man named Ian Anderson who’s supposedly been proven to have killed four people in the span of two weeks. Sam never really liked these kinds of cases, since it proved to be more difficult than expected to defend someone when they’re actually _proven_ to have committed a crime like this.

Still. It was his job, and he didn’t make his way to the top for nothing.

He hasn’t actually met the guy, hence not being able to discuss the statements or what the man was expected to say to make the judge hold his sentence as low as possible, but he’d manage. It was a main part of his job, after all.

Sam wasn’t a private lawyer. He was hired to defend inmates that either didn’t have the money or the time to find a personal one. Sam liked that. It made him more independent, in the long run. Even if he only ever ended up with cases like this.

It made it feel more exciting. Sam thinks he’d be bored out of his mind after only a few months with only divorce trials, as fucked up as it sounded.

After writing down the most important parts of the case and keywords that would lead him along the way of this difficult trial, he pulled his tie taut against his throat and made his way to the court room.

Once entered, he sat on the chair in front of his name sign and took a sip of his water. Even after five years of doing this more than he could count, there was still always the pang of nervousness, _excitement_ , right before a case was about to begin – just like what he used to feel when he was about to step outside for his first hunt with thirteen.

Ironically, that’s always been his last thought right before the judge took his place and began his usual introduction speech. Sam knew it by heart by now, nearly tuning out at the first words that were spoken into the big room.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Calling the case of the People of the State of California versus Ian Anderson. Are both sides ready?”

Sam smiled silently to himself before giving his agreements, straightening up while the other parties gave their speeches.

The moment his defendant was called into the court room, even Sam held his breath. The cameras of the press immediately being raised high made his pulse pick up. It was nothing new that he defended someone he’d never met before, but something about this felt different, almost familiar-  
The doors were swung open, and Sam couldn’t breathe.

Sam knew the day would come. Knew, that he’d have to face him again someday. He just never expected it to be in this kind of position, with Sam in a higher state for the first time in their lives. With him being led towards Sam in handcuffs, winking and smirking at him with seemingly no trace of worry on his mind.

For half his life, Sam thought he’d be with Dean when it came to this.

For half his life, Sam _wanted_ to be the one with Dean when it came to this.

The trial went on in a blur, Sam still doing his best to defend his big brother while knowing full on that Dean already had multiple plans ready for whatever he’d be sentenced for. Multiple ID’s to switch to. Multiple _lives_ to live.

Sam couldn’t even bother to remember the sentence Dean – or rather _Ian Anderson_ – had received in the end, merely knowing that it had to be more than twenty-five years, if not a life-time, only interested in finally getting out of the stifling room and loosening the choking tie around his sweaty neck.

Before doing that, though, he asked for a moment alone with his defendant, to _review the trial with Mr. Anderson, please._

A request that was surprisingly enough granted.

Dean was left sitting next to Sam while everyone else was piling out, Sam nodding a final time before the police officers went to swing the heavy doors shut.

They both seemed to stare at each other until they heard it fall into the lock behind them.

“Heya Sammy,” Dean immediately said, smirk still complementing the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Sam huffed out a laugh, “you have a plan.”

“Don’t I always?” Dean winked, moving his right arm as if he’d wanted to pat Sam on his shoulder but forgot he was standing handcuffed in a courtroom.

The door opened again, Sam quietly giving his approval before Dean was walked back to his cell.

He’d have killed everyone in there if he weren’t one hundred percent sure that Dean would be standing at his doorstep in no longer than a week.


End file.
